If I was Shinji
by MagiRebirth
Summary: Life is confusing. And sometimes what we feel or think isn't really what is.


Disclaimer: I don't own NGE

I've been writing fanfictions on and off for years now. And because I love writing, and reading, and sharing things which may or may not be true; despite any person's opinion. Let me share my twisted point of view.

Let me warn, therefore, the reader, that this fiction shouldn't be taken seriously. Nor should be read by those who can't understand nor accept that people are different, and to judge them by one standard is tyranny.

Best BGM to read this with: Audiomachine - The Truth

Confessions of an addict: If I was Shinji

In my mind, to seek death is only normal. For we who live must accept that those who are born into this cruel world, and enjoy the beauty it holds, will soon be gone. That if there is no heaven, nor hell, but just returning to sweet nothingness. And the lies we tell ourselves before we sleep because we can't accept that it is but a joke.

Here are the pills. One by one I swallow them. I normally don't do this, unless my parents tell me to. And because I feel that I am but a burden. And because I can't let go of this one dream. That maybe someday it will all pay.

Let's be clear. I'm not a drug addict. I don't have drug dependencies, but I have something else. I'm addicted to sadness. And to be truly happy, I must first cry out of fear, pain, and gore. That I must experience hell and earn it. But that's not the only path. And not the only thing that matters.

Yes, there are those who wish to guide my path into something that I'm not. And when I fail, it hurts, but I'm, again, given another chance. Which is fair or not. Doesn't really matter.

I do test myself and those around me, not because I want to confirm their resolved, but my resolve. I want to disappear, but I don't want to die. I don't want to kill, but I know it's necessary.

I don't have a voice, and I feel death is near. A few times have I felt my heart ache. And my head fuzzy in sight. That I'm privileged enough to do somethings, and no one cares about the outcome. It's like the feeling that those around you have given up, but instead of guiding you; will let you walk your path.

Simply, I don't know if it's okay that I'm being left alone. But I guess it is easier on their part; so that there is no person to blame but me.

When I was young, I told my dad that I had issues with my mom, because I was angry. But before I could vent, my dad stopped me; and already said I was wrong before listening to my words. That's when I realized that what I am, my thoughts, my ideas; no matter how right it may be or wrong will be stopped if the other party already decides what is right.

I decided not to open up then.

Because I didn't enjoy time with my family, I looked for friends. For someone to emulate a family and build one. I had a group, we were few, careless, but we loved each other. Yet, it still failed, when I tried to fix our carelessness. This is do regret. We should have walked the path to hell, then be separated. Nothing can be done now. It's a long story that reflects how success results to sadness.

Sometimes I do dream. And it scares me. I'd see flames on the top of my ceiling, and it would hit me, burn through me. I'd rationalize that my dream has something to do with a war. That someone died, without feeling the bullets, yet seeing the blood in one's hands, feeling it flow, and screaming due to fear. I wonder why I didn't die in my dream?

What do I want? I used to know the answer to this question. And I wish I knew how to forget. Because I can't. And if I try to remember, I hurt my head. It's all there. But sometimes, I'm afraid that the truth is I'm going to die soon. And because of a secret. And that for one scares me, yet makes me smile. Because it is something that I can control. That I don't have to share this with someone.

I have a sister, and I'm glad. But I don't know her, yet she has a preconceived notion of what I am. An assumption that I am this person, but that is not true. I've closed my heart from the moment I lost love. I believe I'm not worthy of loving someone, and that no one should love me.

Thoughts of self harm always comes to mind. And cutting, or drugging, but mine would be to kill myself via cigarettes, then it dawned to me. My body is strong, and I won't die through that. So, I abandoned the thought of self harm, and merely accept my fate that someday, soon, everything will end.

I wish life had a save game, that we can replay certain events and get it right. If not the first time, by a few more times. Yet fate is not kind. It laughs at my wish, and again I'm lost.

What should I say? That I no longer want this life? What should I do? Sure I make lots of money, but I don't access it. Nor am I willing to improve it. But maybe that is a lie. In truth I'm poor, and I have nothing. If a person is alone, then such person truly has nothing. And that is what I am.

Yes, keep experimenting on how I will react; so those around me will not be the same. I will be gone, and you will be happy. Keep my money you fools. And keep earning through the luck I give.

I hate this. The idea of contemplating; so I'll know what is right. In my mind, nothing truly is. For God, if he or she or it is real, doesn't really care. Because death still exists, and people are in pain. May be that is the only truth.

Should I end it all? No. I'm not strong enough. But I do hope someone will do this for me. And then may be I'll find peace.

I fight each day, thinking about friends lost, and lovers lost. That people pretend because they're told to act this way when with me. But in reality they don't care.

What will you sacrifice to make me happy?

If I'm God, and this life that I made in my imagine, it would make sense. The idea that happiness is in reach, but not forever. Yes, that's who I am. A whisper in the wind. I made everything to be this way. I only see through my eyes, yet I don't want it to be. A conflict within reason.

Let it all burn then. Let the angels come and change the world. Yes, let it be reset. And something will be new again. This is my gun, and I pull the trigger unto you, says I.

I'm lost. I'm ashamed. What I think isn't really the case is it? This is but a product of my experience, and I justify it as such, because I'm lazy to know better.

What is it then to live? To face the corrupt world? To be the glorious king of all kings? Or is it to think?

To be confined in the four walls of this apartment, typing a piece of my soul, and sharing it is all I can do for now. And may be I'll find courage to move again. Because sometimes, when I lose faith in a system, I lose it all. And I never return.

Will I fall in love? I've lost my zing. So I'll be sad and emotional and cry.

I tell myself to stop. And look at the time. 2 in the morning. It's time to pretend and fight again. To save those who want to be saved or not, but to fight for others even if I don't fight for myself, because they want something other than what I do. I'm the exception. And I'm alone. There is no reason to drag everyone else into my path of destruction.

Let it be said, that I fought, I created, and I'll never stop until this life ends. And I be remembered as that fool who tried, and failed. But kept laughing as the end came, and never gave up on the strangers he never met, and loved those who never cared.

To think that everyone thinks the same is but a dream of a fool; for everyone has a different path and are kings of their destiny. Yet slave to the sweet embrace of fate.

-lk


End file.
